


Kintsukuroi

by Satan In Purple (purple_satan)



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, POV Second Person, Sorry Not Sorry, here i go making new polyships i guess, this plays out like a bad romcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple
Summary: When a shy Master Attendant calls on her closest food soul for help with matters of the heart, things don't go quite as expected.





	Kintsukuroi

**Author's Note:**

> My MA is the cat avatar and I wholly blame that for the sole reason Red Wine calls the MA pet and kitten as a nickname. No, it’s not a callback to Spike or anything weird, I promise. Also, leave it to me to take a Steak/MA prompt and turn it into the Red Wine show, I’m not even surprised at this point.
> 
>  **Prompts:** _Shy MA/Steak, Steak and Red Wine fighting over the MA_

 

The road leading to the conundrum you found yourself in was, interesting, to say the least.

For one, it probably wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t summoned Red Wine very early on during your stay in Gloriville. And while your shyness had taken a bit of getting used to for him, he appreciated your willingness to let his sharp tongue do the talking for you more often than not, and you quickly became closer to him than many of the other food souls.

(Perhaps if things had gone differently, you and he would not have become as close as you did.)

So when Steak was finally summoned after months of Red Wine’s stories, you were extremely concerned. After all, how could one of your most trusted food souls be wrong? Certainly Red Wine had proven his merit over and over to you. So when he told you Steak was an arrogant, brash, crude asshole, you believed every word of it.

And he _was._

You could tell he more often than not wanted to yell _spit it out already!_ at you as you meekly stuttered out commands, but held his tongue as Red Wine glared at him by your side. Even he had the sense to know treating you as he did his previous master would have less than favorable results.

“The new Master is a lady and should be treated as thus,” Red Wine would tut, eyes slit as he pointed his rapier menacingly at Steak’s chest. “Just because she refuses to dress as one and says little hardly means she’s an imbecile. You could learn a bit from her.”

“Fuck off, Red,” he’d grumble, swatting the air as though Red Wine was a fly he could easily crush. “Just leave me alone and let me fight. I don’t care what you and the Master Attendant have going on.”

“I assure you it’s less salacious than whatever your foul mind is coming up with,” he’d reply with a wide grin, sharp teeth gleaming as he stood closer to you and Steak rolled his eyes. You’d give him a sheepish grin as he scowled and Red Wine hooked an arm around your waist, laughing loud enough Gingerbread looked back at the three of you.

“Gross, you two!” She shouted, pulling a fake look of disgust before dissolving into a fit of giggles herself. Red Wine buried his nose in your hair playfully and you tried to pull away to little avail, laughing as well. “Get a room!”

Perhaps you should have denied it then, just to be safe. But as they say, hindsight is often 20/20...

* * *

 

Despite his sour attitude, Steak certainly proved his worth on the battlefield as well as the training grounds. When he wasn’t bickering with Red Wine, it was much easier to see his more positive qualities and gloss over the flaws in his behavior.

After all, he always seemed to be able to protect you, and Red Wine and Gingerbread somehow so he couldn’t be all that bad, _right?_

Watching him swing a sword became more therapeutic as time went on, as did watching him train the less adept souls in the ways of swordplay. Though he and Red Wine would bicker endlessly over technique, his certainly had his own merit as being much easier to learn in a short time versus the more complicated fencing moves Red Wine employed. It’s in those moments you thought you see the real him, the protector, the gallant knight, underneath all the rude comments.

Which is how you found yourself with a sword in your own hands, swinging it at a squidling and dodging a mad chef trying to skewer you. Taking them both out you feel a rush of elation but its short lived as a ring tooth clamps onto your arm, causing you to drop your sword.

You hear a roar as the ring tooth is skewered between Steak’s swords, then sliced cleanly apart before your eyes. Steak gives it a murderous look, going back into a battle stance.

“Heh,” you reply weakly before everything goes black and the earth rushes up to greet you. You hear him yell again but it sounds fuzzy, like he’s underwater and then static.

When you open your eyes, you’re propped up against a tree. Your injured arm has been cleaned and dressed, covered by the sleeves of your coat you had originally rolled up to hide the worst of it. Blinking slowly, you see red and find Steak sitting next to you, cleaning off his sword with a cloth stained with patches of rust. As you try and get up, he pulls you back down by the wrist and you fall flat on your ass, unprepared.

“Easy, alright? You might hurt yourself worse than you already did.”

“Your bedside manner could use some work, you know,” you choke out, throat feeling like sandpaper as you open your canteen and take a swig.

“So I’ve been told.”

This close you can see the faint blush on his cheeks, how his red hair is matted to his forehead and around his horns you can’t help but want to touch. His blush deepens as you trail your fingertips down the curve of one, stopping at the sharp point before it knicks your finger.

“I’ve told you countless times they’re real,” he huffs but its lacking the usual teeth his comments do.

“Yeah. You have.”

His eyes flutter shut before staring ahead at the sword still in his hands. “If they interest you that much…” he trails off before finally finishing his sentence. “I can show you how I maintain them when we get back. Which we will be doing soon.”

“Cool. What do you use?”

“An oil-based salve and a file. Nothing special.”

Closing your eyes and resting your head on his shoulder, he stiffens momentarily before going back to what he was doing and you inhale the scent of metal, musk and smoke that clings to him. Taking a deep breath, you sigh, realizing you’ll have to apologize for your foolishness at some point.

“I’m sorry I got hurt. This is exactly what Red Wine said would happen.”

Steak growls for a moment, tightening his grip on the sword in his hand, before letting out a heavy sigh of his own.

“No, It was... my fault for not protecting you, Master,” he replies, a bit strained. “You still have plenty to learn and I failed to cover you. Don’t apologize. And whatever you do, don’t tell him he was right.”

“But he was right.”

Gritting his teeth, Steak pauses. “Though he was… we… don’t have to tell him that.” A heavy silence hangs between you both, as he leans back against the tree, wrapping his free arm around your waist.

“Please,” he adds, the word sounding foreign on his tongue as he stumbles over it. “I’d probably try and break his neck if he lectured me today.”

“Okay, I won’t if you reign in the neck-breaking.”

“Fair enough.”

Neither of you say anything else, but Steak carries you in his arms back to the restaurant, despite your protests you can walk. It might be more wishful than anything else but, the look on his face could almost be considered fond as you drift in and out of consciousness on the trek home.

* * *

 

After that day it seems like Steak suddenly learns a new side of himself, finding patience he didn’t use to possess and the ability to hold his sharp tongue around you even though you’ve since accepted his more brusque way of answering things during training and even just hanging out. Now that you know he cares, you can appreciate how straightforward he is. You don’t ever have to worry about him lying to you or for your sake, a small comfort in an unfamiliar land where you’re finding yourself having to trust many strangers quicker than you’d like to normally.

Still, it’s impossibly hard for you to just come out and say how you feel about him. Surely if he felt the same way, he would just tell you, _right?_

Resigned to your feelings clearly being one-sided, you sigh, looking out the window of the restaurant, as customers file in and out. It’s a busy day and most hands are on deck either working here or sending out deliveries, rather than exploring and you’re going stir-crazy being stuck inside with your thoughts all day.

Red Wine, ever perceptive, notices almost immediately the change in your mood.

“Sit,” he commands, nearly dragging you to a table and pouring you a glass of wine, then pushing it over to you. “Drink.”

You take the glass and mime his motions, swirling its contents. Not one to follow proper breaks, or really anything other than your instructions out in the field, you’ve resigned yourself to the fact sitting and drinking in the middle of the day is hardly the worst thing Red Wine could be up to, all things considered.

At least he’s not harassing the staff today.

As you continue to look off dejectedly into your drink, Red Wine coughs delicately. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he finally speaks again when you don’t look up.

“You know, pet... while I find your taste in men other than me deplorable, you’ll have to tell him yourself,” he sighs, sipping on his own glass. “That oaf _._ He’s so thick he hasn’t even noticed your intentions. And that’s even with you fondling his horns on a weekly basis.”

“I—I don’t—” you stammer out, but Red Wine just smiles beatifically. “Okay, caught me. Also _‘fondling’_? Really?”

Red Wine snorts. “Absolutely. You two are disgusting.”

You sip at the wine instead of replying. Usually you can at least stand the ones your companion shares with you, but not this bottle. It tastes like ashes in your mouth as you look anywhere but at Red Wine and he continues to grill you.

“How long?”

“What?”

 _“How long_ has this been weighing on you?” His eyes narrow as you gulp down another mouthful of wine. “Since he carried you back in his strong arms after you were hurt?”

“How did you—”

You and Steak had both kept the secret you got hurt, but he still had to explain why you had come back clearly exhausted and a bit disheveled.

“I can smell blood, pet. Even if it's been cleaned up or hidden. Even if it’s covered in the fact you smell like _him._ Nice touch him ripping up his own clothes to bandage you though. Disgustingly gallant.”

You reflexively touch your arm, even though the bite has long since healed. The fabric wrapped around it discarded without thought that Steak had to get his clothes mended after.

“I figured I’d let you two have your little ruse since it wasn’t hurting anyone.” Swirling his glass, he scoffs. There’s a bored look on his face as he peers into its depths. “ _Tch_ , you two. What a cliche.”

“Red, are you mad at me?”

“Hardly.”

Frowning into your own glass, you stare at your murky reflection in crimson.“I dunno, you seem different.”

“I can assure you I’m having this painfully droll heart-to-heart with you out of the graciousness of my heart,” he replies dryly.

“You keep secrets from me too.”

“I don’t _lie_ to _you._ ”

Eyes flashing, he sets down his glass a bit harder than normal. “Just because I’m not an open book doesn’t mean—”

“Doesn’t mean what?”

“—no, no. This is not about me, this is about _you_ and your sordid crush on the world's biggest idiot.”

You sigh, throwing your hands up in defeat and slumping back in your chair. “It’s... embarrassing to have feelings for someone who doesn’t like you back!”

“Indeed,” he replies, regaining his composure as he tops off your glass with the last of the bottle. “What do you plan to do? Or will I have to do it for you?”

You shake your head wordlessly, finishing off your glass and not meeting his eyes.

“You are— _and I mean this with absolute sincerity_ —completely hopeless. Just like him,” Red Wine mutters, flicking back his ponytail from his shoulder. “ _Tch,_ how I ended up playing matchmaker, I’ll never know. I blame my insatiable curiosity to see how this disaster plays out, I suppose.”

_"Pet!”_

Snapping his fingers in front of your face, he gives you a sly grin. “Ask nicely for my help and I suppose I could be benevolent enough to aid in your plight to woo that dolt. I promise you he knows nothing about romance, though. You’ll be disappointed, no doubt.”

Rolling your eyes, you clasp your hands together in mock supplication.

“Oh benevolent Red, please help me.”

“Only if you promise to not tell me anything about it. I mean, except the bad parts.”

 _“Sadist,”_ you mutter under your breath as he arches an eyebrow at you. Draining the rest of his own glass, he leaves them on the table along with the empty bottle and takes you by the hand.

“Very well. Let’s start with those dreadful clothes of yours.”

Omurice shoots you both a dirty look as neither of you make any move to clean up the table. You give him a helpless look and a shrug, as you’re dragged out the restaurant doors.

It’s only later, well into your shopping adventure, that you can’t help but wonder even though Red is smiling and offered to help, why his eyes look so sad every time you try on a new outfit and twirl around for him. After all, isn’t this exactly what he wanted too?

* * *

 

You realize you’ve made a terrible mistake when your co-conspirator's idea of help just means hours of shopping and him hanging off of you even more than usual the next few days. While you probably could use the vacation, taking one so impromptu ends up taking a toll on the whole group.

The staff at the restaurant is mad at you because you’re normally there to at least supervise a part of the day, tasks now delegated to Pudding, who looks less than pleased at the extra workload. Coffee looks similarly unimpressed, his deliveries now taking longer and often mixed up to catastrophic effect. Boston Lobster won't stop complaining about the heat, Gingerbread is restless from not being able to go out and fight as often, and Steak seems to be practically radiating anger every time you see him.

“I want to go shopping too!” Gingerbread tells you sulkily as you return from a mission in Nevras, teeth still chattering. “It’s not fair it’s just the two of you every time!”

The clothes are certainly nice, but they feel strange and impractical to fight in. You walk stiffly in your new heels as Gingerbread continues to complain and Steak is all but grinding his teeth together watching the three of you.

“We can take you shopping too, Ginger. Right, Red?” You look at the man by your side imploringly, as the redhead stomps her foot on the ground.

“Adults only, I’m afraid,” he replies airily, shooting Gingerbread a devastatingly cruel smile. “And before you say you’re older than the Master, need I remind you of the fit you are throwing currently?”

_“Hmpfh. Meanie.”_

Gingerbread stomps off to join Milk and Black Tea, who have simply taken to politely avoiding the four of you entirely.

“That was a bit cruel, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want to share my time with you. We have so little of it as it is,” he replies, kissing the back of your hand. “I’m not here to entertain others, only you.”

The noise of disgust Steak makes from behind the two of you doesn’t go unnoticed as Red Wine's grin gets unsettlingly wider.

* * *

 

“This isn’t working, Red! Now everyone’s as mad at me as they are normally at you!” You exclaim as you finally make your way through the restaurant and down the hall to the attached living quarters you sometimes stay in. Opening the doors, you fling off your heels and peel off the stockings underneath the stuffy dress.

“It’s been fun though, hasn’t it?” He asks you with a grin, crossing his arms and watching you struggle to take off extra layers without completely stripping down in front of him.

“Fun's over, _Cassanova._ Your plan didn’t work. And I call it a 'plan' quite loosely because all it was happened to be me being a complete idiot while you did what I normally tell you not to do!”

“Oh, I beg to differ. Of course, you don’t have to thank me for such a magnificent—”

“Trust me, I’m not,” you reply, gathering up your stupid, stuffy skirt and getting in his face. “In fact, I’m madder—

"—the most mad—"

"Okay, _fine. The most mad_ at you I ever have been!”

Setting a finger on your lips he shushes you, cocking his head to the side.

"Hold that thought.”

Pulling you into the doorway, he brushes a lock of hair out of your eyes and leans in. You can feel his breath on your lips and you’re close enough he smells like the wine he’s always drinking, cinnamon, and faintly floral as you feel his hand come up to cup your cheek holding you exactly where you are. “Stay right here, kitten,” he whispers as your eyes flutter shut and you obey. “You look perfectly delectable, all flustered and disheveled.”

A moment passes and you freeze as you feel him pull you flush against him, lips touching yours once, twice as one arm snakes around your waist and the other finds itself in your hair. He’s nibbling on your bottom lip when you hear a huff behind you and someone with heavy footsteps stomps off, snapping you out of the trance you are in.

“Mmmmm, that should do the trick,” your companion replies, licking his lips before letting go of you and backing out of your personal space to lean back against the wall, smiling smugly.

Taking advantage of the limited space still between you, you smack him on the arm none too gently.

“Red! First of all, warn a girl, would you?”

“What’s second?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

_“You just kissed me.”_

“I did," he muses. "And I must say as far as kisses go, it was hardly a bad one. We might want to work on your technique though.”

“Ugh!” You smack him again, this time hard enough he winces. “Not like fake kissing. _Kissing-_ kissing. Why?”

“You didn’t notice his reaction?” Red asks, rubbing his arm “Also by the gods, woman. You _are_ getting stronger from practice; that stung. Well done. Want to try for a third?”

_“Absolutely not!”_

Raising your hand again ready to smack him, your other hand comes up. Fingers touching your still tingling lips, you replay the last minute in your mind and realize exactly what Red Wine just said.

Oh.

_Shit._

* * *

 

Running out of the restaurant barefoot, you look back once to find Red raising a glass and winking at you through one of the windows, as you pick up speed and dart to the most likely place you think you’ll find the knight. Trying to collect your thoughts along the way, you end up finding Steak on the training grounds, beating a practice dummy to a near pulp.

Timidly approaching, you can tell by the way he stiffens he still heard your footsteps but doesn’t turn around.

“So after all this time lying, you and that asshole really are a thing? _Tch_ ,” he spits, swinging his sword at the dummy hard enough the clang when it impacts makes your own teeth rattle in your skull.

“No!” You blurt out quickly. “He was just being—”

“Friendly? Helpful?”

Steak gives a rueful laugh before hacking at the dummy again. “Blowing all your money on clothes and meals instead of better weapons, restaurant equipment, and training. That bastard doesn’t care about anyone besides himself. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

“He cares about me!” You blurt out, remembering the sad look on Red Wine's face whenever you glanced back at him. The way his eyes lit up when Gingerbread was summoned. The fond look when he told stories late at night about his old Master when you first met. The grin on his face every time he fought with Steak.

“And he cares about you too!”

 _“Tch,”_ Steak replies again, pulling his sword out of the dummy only to stab at it once more. “You’ll find out yourself, idiot.”

“I didn’t ask him to kiss me! We aren’t even like that!” You add, wringing your hands in frustration.

Steak turns around quickly enough to startle a small _yelp_ out of you. Looking at his face you can see the fury in his red eyes. “If he disrespected you, coerced you… I’ll tear him limb from limb, so help me—”

“It wasn’t that either, Steak! I— well, y-you’re the only one I like!”

Mortified at what you just said, you cover your mouth with your hands, wishing you could run away but your bare feet are frozen in place, legs paralyzed, as he turns to you.

_“What the hell did you just say?”_

His swords drop out of his grip, clanging on the ground as he stomps towards you.

“If this is one of his jokes again—”

“It’s not!”

Suddenly he looks impossibly tall, even though he only has a few inches of height on you, as you shrink even further. Your lip wobbles under his scrutiny and you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“I have no use for worthless emotions such as—”

He stops mid-tirade as you bow your head and quietly reply.

“You’re right, it was stupid of me to say anything. I’ve been very foolish the last couple days.”

Turning around, you hang your head as you leave but a hand grips your arm, spinning you around. Steak drops to his knees in front of you as he watches a tear run down the side of your face.

“Master,” his breath is barely a whisper as he looks up at you through his messy bangs. “Forgive me. I assumed because of earlier it was a joke in poor taste, not yours of course, but—”

“I—I didn’t know how to tell you,” you sob out and he stands up quickly. Brushing his thumb against your cheekbone, he wipes away the tears with his ungloved hand. “But Red already knew and he’s known you so long. I asked him for h-help. I know that was dumb of me to do, you both are so very different but I didn’t know how to tell you and it only made things worse.”

He crushes you into a hug as you continue sobbing into his coat. Rubbing soothing circles on your back, he rests his chin on the top of your head and sighs.

“Don’t ever get advice from him. Especially not about me.”

“O—okay.”

“Also, those clothes are ridiculous.”

“I know,” you reply with a watery laugh, plucking at your skirt as you continue to sniffle. “I hate them. I ran out here barefoot because walking around in heels all day has been murder on my feet. I pray for anyone trying to catch his eye.”

“I think someone already has.”

Before you can reply, he’s sweeping you off your feet and you find yourself being carried in his arms once again. Which is exactly what got you into this entire mess in the first place.

“Before you protest, I insist.”

He doesn’t look down, probably so you don’t have to dodge one of his horns catching you in the eye or somewhere else equally unpleasant. Staring off into the distance, he stops for a moment, voice going rough as he speaks to you in a more gentle tone.

“And Master?”

“Hmm?”

“It pains me to say this but, you weren’t wrong. He does care deeply about you, but so do I. My body, my heart and my sword, they are forever loyal to you.” A familiar feeling of reassurance sparks in your stomach as Steak tells you the same words he did when you summoned him.

“You’ve said that to me before.”

“What I mean is— _ugh, do I have to say it?_ —I suppose I do.” He frowns, holding you to him tighter. “Master, _I like you too.”_

**Author's Note:**

> honestly at this point, i have no idea what i am doing with my life because of this fandom. anyway come find me [@food-fantasy-support-group](http://food-fantasy-support-group.tumblr.com) if you want to yell at me for being a heathen, i don't mind.


End file.
